


Cocoon

by brutumfulmen



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Strength Kink, Strong Crowley (Good Omens), Tenderness, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutumfulmen/pseuds/brutumfulmen
Summary: Aziraphale wakes in the night under the cover of more than one type of darkness.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 262





	Cocoon

**Author's Note:**

> Short something before a certain long something gets updated.

Sleep did not come easily to Aziraphale most of the time. Whenever there was even the slightest shift in the real world his spirit took it as a ready excuse to yank him back to wakefulness, rested or not. Perhaps it was a holdover from his Heaven-sponsored paranoia or the simple need to ensure he remained always available should a certain demon care to darken his doorway.

Either way, it served no purpose nowadays when the former was mercifully defunct and the latter happily redundant.

Tonight was no different save for the quiet sigh he gave the calm, warm summer air as his eyes, heavy with the reluctance to let sleep depart, darted behind his eyelids before they opened at last. Instead of the familiar pale blue glow of moonlight, however, Aziraphale was met by a darkness so dense his eyes strained to adjust as they yielded not a scrap of light. He reached out, a thunderstorm in his chest when he touched a smooth, almost slippery curtain of sensation. It twitched under his fingers, then folded away.

“Dear?” He breathed out into the warm air, and he futilely blinked at the rustle of Crowley’s massive, dark wings from their covering sprawl over Aziraphale. With a fluid motion they adjust to their natural recline against his broad back and moonlight seeped in to give Aziraphale more to work with. The windows were blotted out but now Aziraphale could make out shapes and the lines of their bedroom. What was once blank, sterile walls were now lined with shelves cluttered by an assortment of objects Aziraphale enjoyed that Crowley grumbled about tolerating. The ornate chair by the door was piled high with Crowley’s current mess of clothes as the closet remained neatly organised with Aziraphale’s.

It was home, and he was safe beside Crowley. Why had he awoken so suddenly?

“Dear?” He called again, a bit louder this time.

“Sleep,” Crowley’s voice slithered through the still night. He turned partially to look down at Aziraphale, then came a shift of his wings closer towards Aziraphale until he caught himself and retracted them so that the light returned. This time, Aziraphale did not welcome it.

“What happened, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked as he raised himself up onto one elbow, squinting through the dim moonlight to Crowley’s upright, eerily still figure. With another blink the image sharpened, and he picked out the full flush of serpent’s scales over what usually was Crowley’s pale flesh, and as Crowley breathed he watched in fascination how they expanded, so dark no light reflected back. All six of Crowley’s wings were out and they moved as if of their own accord, fluttering on a wind they alone possessed the power to conjure.

He was beautiful, and Aziraphale’s chest ached with the vision before him.

Crowley’s crown wings, slim and full feathered, twitched a brush of their primaries down his sharp cheekbones that betrayed his reluctance, but he spoke anyways.

“Dreams didn’t feel right. Woke up ready for an attack I guess,” he said in a voice richly layered with the occult and human as he leaned his weight against one locked arm and his shadowed face stared down at Aziraphale. “Couldn’t fall back to sleep in case someone came to hurt you.”

“Thank you, truly, but falling asleep has not been a problem for you before,” Aziraphale replied, a tad impatient as interrupted sleep stung the corners of his eyes. Unfair of him, truthfully, as he glanced over his shoulder far too often, but it has been years since the times when someone came looking for them both. They could not take this, not anymore. Crowley’s been so good about keeping them safe, but it’s clear Aziraphale failed to notice something important, and his frown deepened with worry as the demon continued talking.

“Not had a dream like that in a long time. Might just be a demon now but,” and Crowley stopped, his jaw clenched between his crown wings as he turned away to face the moonlight-stained windows once again.

It was easy to forget at times what a force of might Crowley had been, still was. Oh, he was nothing but gentle in his handling of Aziraphale over these millennia. Abrupt, ridiculous, and even calloused at times but rough? Not once. Still, it would be foolish of Aziraphale to ignore the roil that encompassed the demon he’d made his life with, the power of the seraphim - warped as it was by the Fall - that lay under his deceptively fragile skin. To deny that his mortal body translated serpentine strength remarkably well. He’d felt it each time in the determined way Crowley held his hand, the way he lifted Aziraphale to carry him to their bedroom that first time together and all their times since.

How difficult a balance his demon struck each day, and before he wondered after how high a fall Crowley must have suffered Aziraphale shook his head. For all his acclaimed lack of position in Hell, Crowley never has felt the force of a hand he could not break, an enemy he could not overcome if he imagined so.

No wonder Crowley felt his contrasting instincts too much for a mere principality, especially one sleeping vulnerable at his side.

But Crowley, he’s always touched with a reverence that at times brought Aziraphale to tears. Some he hid in the sanctuary of Crowley’s chest, others the demon coaxed from the cradle of those gentle hands as they made love, received with soft murmurs of care.

Aziraphale sighed quietly to himself and reached for Crowley. His hand touched between those flawless black wings along the vulnerable column of Crowley’s spine. Tinged with awe, he watched how the muscles which anchored those large wings flexed, but Crowley did not pull away as a deep-seated, hidden part of Aziraphale worried might happen.

“You would never hurt me,” Aziraphale whispered to Crowley’s ramrod straight back, but he knew Crowley was listening. “Not in six thousand years have you, and just now you said you awoke to protect me from something. Haven’t you?”

In an instant he was pinned by a blur of darkness and though his eyes widened, darted around in the hope to capture a meagre speck light there was nothing for him to focus on. The human response of his heart slammed in his chest with the beginnings of instinctual panic until there came the rasping shift of what sounded like wings parting, and Crowley’s eyes glowed down at him through the mire black.

“Crowley.” His tongue weighed the name and he wished his voice did not sound so breathless as the demon’s scaled face, now so close to his own, scowled deeply in response.

“You think my wings out like this is _good_ ,” Crowley hissed as the very wings in question, all six, fluttered and kicked the bedroom’s warm air about. “That me waking in the night ready to fight, to destroy is safe. That it can’t turn on you. You think my want of you is always—” A vulgar, unknown noise tore from Crowley’s scale blotched throat, his teeth flashed sharp and his tongue elongated the words if they could be called such.

“No,” Aziraphale replied as the veil of those wings blotted out his view again. It was becoming easier now, he found. “But it is _you_ , and you do it for me.”

Crowley’s grip tightened, then eased as serpent and human took turns on his conflicted face. “Who else would it be for,” he muttered, and a blackened, clawed hand released one of Aziraphale’s wrists to run the back down a flushed cheek. Aziraphale leaned into the touch, and as he sighed Crowley chased it with a kiss, his thin mouth a touch insistent, desperate. Aziraphale moaned, overwhelmed by the adoration he felt in the forked tongue that reverently swept along the seam of his lips.

“Let me feel it then, Crowley. When you’re like this. Let me see,” Aziraphale breathed when they parted, his free hand reaching over the hammer pound of Crowley’s heart, where he knew lived the spark of every star he’d ever looked up at with awestruck wonder.

To think so once exalted a creature as Crowley thought him deserving, after all he’d done and failed to do in their long lives together. Aziraphale looked away and his eyes, still weighed with sleep, closed despite the careful touch of Crowley’s clawed hand. Where eldritch blurred so well Aziraphale cared not for separating them, how he loved Crowley in all his forms.

“Then look, angel.” A breath held, and he opened his eyes.

Crowley moved over him and Aziraphale fell back once more onto the soft of their bed, compelled by the strength in Crowley’s voice as it filled his head. His legs parted for Crowley where he kneeled solid between the vulnerable space of Aziraphale’s thighs and then Crowley stretched up, his red-black scaled body caught within focus. All six of his wings fanned out, their combined spread a flawless mimicry of the midnight sky, a universe ready to be dotted with light.

Oh, Aziraphale’s throat tightened, how lovely Crowley was in all his terrifying splendour.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said, staring wide-eyed and enraptured as Crowley came down to meet the reach of his hands. He paused, hovering over the nape of Crowley’s neck where the wings that encircled his crown branched out from. “May I?” Crowley’s gold-flooded stare did not blink, but the fine lines that creased around his eyes were enough permission. The first brush of his fingertips along the dense feathers sent a shudder through Crowley’s body, his clawed hands gripped the fullness of Aziraphale’s waist, but he remained still through Aziraphale’s attention.

“Please,” Aziraphale asked, containing in the word everything he did not know how to speak aloud, and Crowley’s pupils blew wide until they contracted back to slivers. The dark, slim wings made for his crown cradled Aziraphale’s head, shutting out the night and all but Crowley’s eyes as they gleamed down at him, the centre of one another’s world.

“Tell me,” he interrupted himself with a complex, wicked string of language Aziraphale could not understand and his angelic aura writhed, submitted with its neck bared. Crowley’s claws went from the soft give of Aziraphale’s waist to his hips, then to the ticklish backs of his knees where he sunk a quick pinch behind each as Aziraphale gasped with surprised laughter. Oh, Crowley.

“Tell me the instant it’s too much. If I hurt you.”

Before Aziraphale could respond Crowley managed a complicated flex of his primary wings as they fanned out, then swooped underneath Aziraphale’s feet and lifted his legs until the fold of his body let Crowley nudge closer, hot and smooth against the backs of Aziraphale’s thighs.

“I trust you, dear,” Aziraphale said on the tail-end of a moan. The snap of a lubricant bottle’s cap sounded like the crack of lightning, but all tension in Aziraphale slipped away the moment Crowley’s drenched hand groped and searched between his hiked up legs. He squirmed, unable to speed up the sharp thumb teasing along his balls, then down past the delicate skin that led to the tight close of his body. A touch, then two well-slicked fingers sunk deep to their knuckles and Aziraphale’s mind went blank.

“Do you, Aziraphale?” Crowley’s long tongue left a wet trail down his cheek before he followed it with a deep, consuming kiss. His fingers plunged in again, an expert precision that eased a third finger past the reluctant tension of Aziraphale’s rim. Aziraphale groaned at the burning stretch, biting his lip as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. If he watched for a moment longer the way Crowley’s space-expanse feathers covered them, if he relaxed his grip on the sweat-dampened bedcovers for even an instance Aziraphale was certain he’d come, so desperately aroused he now was. At how easily Crowley moved and controlled Aziraphale’s every sense where his seraphic strength, fallen or not, brimmed under the surface of the demon’s skin. With little more than that Aziraphale knew he was hopelessly pinned.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale bit back the whine threatening his throat at the press of a fourth finger to his rim. His toes curled from the clench of heat pooling between his thighs, the exquisite tightening in his balls that warned of an early end before things even began. “I’m too close, please. Please—” He choked off at the curling pleasure Crowley’s fingers drip fed through him as they rubbed over his prostate, his legs spasm from their perch on Crowley’s steady wings.

“I’ll never be like Heaven or any of those angels. I won’t hurt you,” Crowley hissed through the black of what comprised Aziraphale’s vision. One last prod and his fingers slipped from Aziraphale’s stretched, dripping body. He groaned in agonised relief as the edge retreated, his neglected prick throbbing against the curve of his sweat-soaked belly but Crowley made no move to touch him. Not yet.

“Not you. Never you,” Crowley continued, then he moved, claws ripping Aziraphale’s grip from the bed to pin them down onto the pillows.

Aziraphale gasped at the molten of Crowley’s cock rutting against his own, his arms fought the force of Crowley to no avail but he cried out all the same. “You won’t. You, oh, you always take such good care of me,” he said, legs trembling at the flick of the wings that propped them up and open for Crowley.

“Always,” came an immediate reply through the dark. Crowley’s cock, thick and hard, pressed up against the slick smear between Aziraphale’s buttocks, a promise of what was about to occur. Aziraphale tried to shift closer but Crowley moved first and caught the blunt tip of his cock on Aziraphale’s loosened rim as Crowley swayed forward, gentle as he knew Aziraphale needed it to be. He released Aziraphale’s hands and they scrambled blindly for his back, anchoring blunt fingers into armourplate scales to steady himself against the unstoppable pressure building inside him the further Crowley sunk. A shaky exhale came from the sharpness of Crowley’s mouth and Aziraphale moaned as he opened and parted until Crowley was solidly flush against his arse.

As one they gave a shuddering sigh out to the damp air between their pressed close mouths. His eyes opened at last only to greet feathered darkness, but he did not feel afraid. There was the bed underneath him and Crowley above him.

It was the sanctuary Heaven never had been and it was his, theirs.

“Crowley,” he sighed and clenched tight around Crowley’s cock, pleased by the sharp grunt he received along with the delicious twitch of iron-hard heat inside him. A hand slipped through the visionless barrier of Crowley’s wings to massage circles into the sensitive plush of one of Aziraphale’s trembling thighs, and he moaned in encouragement when it petted over his small, sticky cock in a tease of pleasure. “Oh, I’m so lucky to be yours.”

“Angel,” Crowley shivered, strong back muscles flexing under the bite of Aziraphale’s blunt nails as they dug in just at the base of his seraphic wings. Within he throbbed heavily and bucked forward, sheathing deep inside Aziraphale’s overly slick body and he moaned what sounded like Aziraphale’s name in all but words.

“It’s me that’s the lucky one,” Crowley growled next to Aziraphale’s temple as he thrust again, the wings on his calves fluttered and flicked in delight with with each responding clench of Aziraphale. Soon he built their rhythm in that powerful sway of his hips, pressing closer, deeper into the yielding clutch of Aziraphale under his soft pleas for more. “Always been.”

Aziraphale moaned unabashed, knowing it was only Crowley who might hear him in this covered night, and cried out the demon’s name. He was helpless to do little more than lay there and be lavished in pleasure, his legs still held up by the strength of those dark wings as Crowley drove in again and again. It was good, far too good and Aziraphale never wanted it to stop, the way his eyes opened only to the shift of infinite black shining feathers and Crowley’s scaled face, his adoring, fiercely possessive eyes as they glowed down at Aziraphale.

He felt the shifting, writhing of Crowley’s true form from behind the veil of darkness and his angelic aura thrummed in response to the proximity of what he was supposed to consider the enemy. Instead he moaned as the pressure of Crowley’s profane moved over him, as his corporeal touched and prodded and thrust, and somewhere through the black, under the warped language Crowley spoke in he could hear him threading together Aziraphale’s name and every praise the demon struggled to say in the light of day.

Tears pooled and burned in his eyes, overflowed to track down the sides of his face. Under the harsh sub-vocals Crowley reverbed through his skin and the darkness around them he was babbling something back to Crowley, pleas to continue, to not stop, that he loved him too, always had. Crowley gave no indication he heard but he thrust harder, almost desperately, his thick cock throbbed with each push and pull of Aziraphale’s wet, warm body and his sharp claws painted pale pink lines everywhere they touched. Aziraphale knew not how long Crowley held him down and took him, only that he felt the demon’s pace pick up and somewhere inside him the pleasure sharpened, coiling like a spring. He moaned into the darkness a plea rendered incoherent but soon came a repeated, precise jab over the supple wall shared by his prostate as claws wrapped entirely around his leaking cock, tightened and twisted just so until he was wound tight. He never lasted long, not by his own hand or by the only other to have ever touched him, and he was there, held at Crowley’s mercy.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale wheezed from under the treacle thick sleep that tempted him still, the press of his knees against his heaving chest, the weight of Crowley over him, pushing into his body and his body into the bed. Too much, and yet the perfect amount as he was stretched and squeezed, compressed by bliss he’d not have known without Crowley.

“Please, please Crowley I’m—”

Crowley hissed, sharp fangs gleaming white like pinpricks of light. Eldritch and terrifying, the fallen image of a being far more powerful than Aziraphale could ever comprehend and he’s never been safer, never more loved.

“You’re mine,” Crowley gritted out past his serpentine tongue, through the feathered, spanning darkness he cradled Aziraphale within. “Mine to protect, mine to touch, _mine._ ”

The hand around Aziraphale’s aching cock tightened on its next pull and he was lost. What sounded like Crowley’s name or could have been ‘I love you’, although whenever Aziraphale said one he meant both, burst from Aziraphale’s throat. He came in a clench of hot, broken spurts between them, seed dripping down the wide curve of his stomach to pool in the plush centre of his chest as he writhed from Crowley’s increasingly erratic thrusting.

It was not long after that Crowley’s hips stuttered with a hitched breath, pressing hard against Aziraphale’s arse as he came in long, wet pulses, spilling over and over inside Aziraphale. He roared Aziraphale’s name loud enough to shake the walls, tremble the other dimension’s resolve. Crowley hissed at the instinctive, yielding arch of Aziraphale’s body under him and thrust through his orgasm until Aziraphale slid past oversensitivity back into pleasure, the tight embrace of those long arms and endless wings as he came again in a drawn out crest of pleasure, cock giving a last weak dribble of spend.

“Angel, angel,” Crowley panted into Aziraphale’s hair as one would a mantra, before a holy altar he’s worshipped at his entire life. The large wings flattened to the bed and folded back to let Aziraphale’s trembling legs slip gently upon the covers, loosely splayed around Crowley’s hips. A gentle tug and Crowley’s softening cock slid free of Aziraphale, replaced by the slip of two fingers until the sore clench of his body slowly eased. So thoughtful, everything he claimed incapable of being. “I love you, you’re everything I could ever want. I love you, I do. No matter what I’ll never hurt you, you know that right?”

He tried to respond back as Crowley continued on but could only shudder, still panting when Crowley’s claws touched the stickiness of his half-hard prick to catch a bead of fluid that clung to its flushed tip. A whine took his next breath. Too much, it tread dangerously close to painful but if Crowley folded him in half and insisted they go again he would. He’d deny this fearsome, painfully tender love of his nothing.

For all that trusting in Crowley asked of Aziraphale, what he’s received in return has been worth it every single time.

Under strong, thin hands Aziraphale was turned to his side as Crowley fell onto his back, one massive wing tucked underneath Aziraphale as the other curved idly towards him. Darkness still enfolded him and the night continued on without care. He was able to see the outline of Crowley now, pick out the slow fade of his scales back to the fair skin of his human body.

Aziraphale reached up to run his hand through the dark feathers of Crowley’s crown wings as he once did to the low slung branches of a tree only seen in a hanging garden so very long ago. They fluttered under his fingertips a moment before folding against Crowley’s temples, however the ones branched from his calves were restless, as a wandering primary feather tickled the soles of Aziraphale’s feet from under the mussed covers. He smothered a laugh which Crowley grunted in question at before they twitched and folded flat along his long legs. Through the wander of his dozing afterglow he heard Crowley’s voice, now returned to its normal timbre.

“—you okay?” Aziraphale hummed, the sparks of his orgasm still alive under his skin, the weight of Crowley’s hands and the enfold of his wings thrummed every nerve. He ached in all the best ways, wrung out and blissfully content, so what else could the answer to that question be? A bleary, slightly embarrassed smile stretched his mouth.

“Of course, my dear,” he replied behind a yawn that Crowley chuckled roughly at. “Thank you, that was lovely. You were absolutely incredible.”

Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple where his breath tickled the damp curls there. “Sure am.”

When he huffed in response Crowley kissed him again, then craned his head down to press another, gentler kiss to Aziraphale’s round, flushed cheek. Mollified he shifted closer, a leg pulled up higher to drape over Crowley’s thigh and he bit his tongue at the wet, messy feel of Crowley’s spill as it dripped from between his buttocks. No urgency to clean up just yet, though, he decided with a touch of shyness. Crowley seemed exhausted and Aziraphale wanted the tangible reminder of what just occurred. Let his skin imprint with the memory of Crowley’s whipcord body moving over his, the combination of demonic fervour and seraphic might he’d pinned and taken and cherished Aziraphale with.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered from the resting place of Crowley’s sweat-slicked chest, closed his eyes when a slow breath filled Crowley’s lungs. Then, before his pleasure-slackened courage failed him. “You looked like the night sky, my dear.”

“Must make you my stars then,” Crowley slurred. A hand with both normal and clawed fingers, as though he were too tired to shift them all back, smoothed down the damp of Aziraphale’s arm to cradle the plump hand Aziraphale kept between them. As if considering something he refused to say, Crowley brought it to his mouth and touched a kiss to each fingertip before resting their now joined hands over where his human heart beat steady and true. Aziraphale could only smile around the swell of emotion in his own chest as he settled deeper into Crowley’s arms, a gentle tug of sleep already at the back of his mind.

There, from the dark cocoon of Crowley’s wings, the night has never been such a comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
